


Into the Unknown

by kassandra_divina_trevelyan



Series: Wayhaven Monthly Contributions [5]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Bar Room Brawl, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Little Mermaid Elements, Nudity, Transformation, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassandra_divina_trevelyan/pseuds/kassandra_divina_trevelyan
Summary: The unfortunate circumstances of getting kidnapped and held for ransom by a gang of pirates thrust Captain Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell into a new reality when he discovers the age-old legend of mermaids is more than a mere myth. Rescued from the clutches of the storm by Roxy, one such mermaid, the two work together to return Nate to his home and escape the vengeful pirates that would die to have a naval officer's head while fighting against a strange attraction blossoming between them.
Relationships: Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Series: Wayhaven Monthly Contributions [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998478
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The cool embrace of the iron shackles around his wrists threatened to cloak him beneath an uncertain shroud of shame, but Captain Nathaniel “Nate” Sewell knew his personal shortcomings were the least of his problems. Warm brown eyes tore away from the bloodstained planks, bathed crimson in the blood of his former crewmates that resisted against the unexpected coup launched against them when a pirating vessel spotted his ship. A sailor of the King’s Royal Navy, he understood the price his head would catch on the black market or how several of the grimy pirates gleefully eyeing him wished to bury their sabers into his gut for sport.

Pirates and seamen notoriously did not find themselves agreeable partners and even stranger bedfellows.

Nate’s attention reluctantly focused on the man standing before him, shaggy black hair and pale skin an unburnished red from days languishing under the sun at sea. The grin he received included rancid breath smelling of a rotting carcass and withered brown teeth on the verge of falling out. Nate grimaced internally, challenging the smug amusement of the pirate captain that slaughtered his crew. Those were some of the finest men he ever had the pleasure of working with who laid dead on the floor, never going home to their families.

“Looks like we’ve got a feisty one, lads!” He cackled to his crew, eliciting shouts of ‘Sparrow’ from the rigging overhead and the faint calls from the inside of the Captain’s quarters. Nate assumed that Sparrow’s crew were ransacking his belongings for anything of value, knowing they would find no jewels, gold, or valuables to satisfy their fancy. That alone gave him a small yet ultimately meaningless victory. His stoically holding Sparrow’s gaze while refusing to shrink his posture dictated his position of authority, and Sparrow gruffly spat, “What’s ‘yer name, boy?”

“I am not a boy,” Nate calmly replied, but authority radiated to punctuate each word between clenched teeth. His defiance earned a kick between the back of the knee, forcing him to crumple in on himself. He sunk down to a knee, assaulted with taunting laughter from all sides. He, however, refused to budge. He declared, “I am Captain Nathaniel Sewell of the King’s Royal Navy, not some lowlife compatriot of yours.”

Disgruntled grumbles and curses swiftly retorted to Nate’s sharp-tongued rebuke, but Sparrow studied him with great delight. ‘Sewell’, a name that needed no introduction or prompting. Sewell as in the distinguished, rich lineage filled with merchants and nobility. The pretty boy sailor standing before Sparrow came from money, worth a pretty penny, and the most valuable item aboard the damned vessel.

The Sewell family would pay a handsome price to get their precious son back, and Sparrow counted on their generosity to return Nate all intact. So, he whistled to his men, “Take the Captain, boys. We’re taking pretty boy here for the ransom money!”

“Hurrah!” Sparrow’s men shouted, and two burly guys, shorter than Nate but physically bulky, converged on him. They seized his arms between them, dragging Nate behind them across the plank onto their ship. Sparrow sauntered behind them with a smirk, whistling a sea shanty underneath his breath. He felt lucky as could be when watching his men chain Nate onto the deck, perfectly within the Captain’s view.

He would keep an eye on the prisoner, for the time being, planning on hurling him into the brig once night fell.

Nate, thoroughly unhappy with the current developments, found himself staring longingly at The Queen's Sabre, and terror flashed through his eyes when he noticed the start of a fire on the deck. The kiss of the flames licked desperately, violently at the wood of The Queen's Sabre until her bow became engulfed in destruction. All the bodies of his former crew would be lost in ashes at sea, unable to be properly laid to rest like they deserved. It served to anger Nate, far beyond what he thought himself capable of.

Evidenced by their jovial tunes sang in the off-key warble of a piss-poor drunk stumbling out of the tavern during the wee hours of dawn, the pirates felt great pride in the burning of a naval vessel and unbothered by the slaughter they partook in. Frankly, they believed those haughty seamen deserved what they got and tenfold. Nate slowly felt himself going mad, fruitlessly struggling against the iron cuffs clamping down around his wrists.

Stuck. He was stuck.

His eyes absorbed information of his surroundings, attempting to identify the vessel he was captive on should he manage to escape. How frivolous and fruitless that sounded, but Nate refused to succumb to his circumstances without a proper fight. He abhorred violence and conflict, but his protestations would find another home when sitting with the realization that he might die otherwise.

Unbeknownst to Nate, he stood chained to the deck of ‘The Cursed Ruby’, a notorious pirate ship captained by Nicholas “Sparrow’s Eye” Lye and his motley crew. The crew of ‘The Cursed Ruby’ were wanted by three separate kingdoms for capital punishment, arson, drunken vandalism, and theft. Another commander within the King’s Royal Navy and Nate’s friend, Adam du Mortain, was investigating the case while unaware that the man he considered a brother was hostage aboard the vessel. A tragedy, truly.

As ‘The Cursed Ruby’ sailed further away from the burning carcass of The Queen’s Sabre, an ache buried itself into Nate’s bones. His body burned underneath the sun beating down on him, searing his tawny skin in hot, prickling pain, as the aching from standing in chains blossomed from the soles of his boots to steadily crawl up his body. Minutes passed in eternities, but the gradually drooping position of the sun told the passage of time substantively. Nate did not pay much attention to his surroundings, barely able to look beyond the rhythmic jostling of the ship tossing about the waves or the pain crackling in his bones. The heat of the day and the weight of his alleged failure to stop the pirates overwhelmed him in Atlantean proportions.

If he had, Nate would observe the heat of the afternoon dying when a biting cold started to seep in. Those aboard the deck exchanged uncomfortable stares at the sudden change in the air, filled with the distinct smell of ozone. By the time the clouds transformed from a milky white of a fair lady’s bosom to a disconcerting dark mixture of greys and parchment ink black, the crew knew the ominous foretelling of a storm entering their path.

From the crow’s nest, a startled voice shouted loud enough for those below to hear him and declared, “Cap’n, there be a storm on the horizon! Shall we sail around it?”

“A bunch of clouds. Bah, that’s no storm-” Sparrow hissed, waving his hand. Nate could not bring himself to look up when whispers break out amongst the crew, knitting his brow and biting on his tongue to avoid crying out in pain. All his attention focused on not demonstrating weakness, understanding that any offering of his fault would be a gain for the pirates. Sparrow seemed unmoved by the storm, stating, “It’ll pass.”

“Are you-” The voice echoed down, battered by the sudden pick up of the wind growing somewhat stronger around them. The flag atop the mast whipped frantically, but Sparrow’s growl rose above the noise to command the unsettled whispering.

“Are you questioning me?” He demanded a response, glaring out as his crew when they stopped their meek dissent. He allowed no place for mutiny on his ship, and this remained no exception to the rule. His voice, in the end, was law.

Silence radiated from the crow’s nest. Down came a sorrowful “No sir.” in reply, apologetic tone discernable above all. Nate finally mustered the energy to crane his neck toward the skies, revealing his brow beaded in sweat and his legs threatening to give out underneath him. Watchful eyes of rich mahogany flickered upward to see the warning signs present before him.

He surveyed the storm with confidence having devoted himself to the studies of the sea in navigation and meteorology during his youth, preparing for the family tradition of officership within the Navy. He always felt more at home with his nose buried in a book and dreaming of being a scholar or maybe a great writer rather than a soldier, fighting other men’s wars for gold to fill their overflowing coffers. The irony lies in him as the son of riches, yet he saw no value to money for money’s sake.

Despite Sparrow’s insistence that the storm would dissipate with no concern to the crew of ‘The Cursed Ruby’, Nate knew that to not be true. Alas, the storm would not avoid them, and if they refused to change course immediately, they would end up stuck in the thick of a nasty trap made of lightning, swirling seas, and dangerous winds. A trained eye could see them, and the brewing storm existed approximately thirty miles apart, a distance rapidly shrinking.

As ‘The Cursed Ruby’ sailed closer to the looming storm, the waters beneath her stern bounced choppily to turn from glassy smoothness to disjointed crashing waves slamming into the hull. The forceful impact of the sea against a vessel voyaging across her caused creaks and shuddering of the wood of the bow, inducing chaos in those manning the deck. Before Sparrow could revoke his earlier assertion, made in misplaced confidence, the storm enveloped the waters around them, making things descended from bad to worse.

The waves became erratic, reaching dangerous heights, and tossed ‘The Cursed Ruby’ wildly. The deck quickly grew slick with water from the torrential downpour and the crew attempting to follow orders and “man their stations” as Sparrow directed were powerless to stop the chaos. Nate, still chained to the deck, could only observe in horror. This is where he died today, lost to the sea with the boorish pirates who snatched him for a ransom demand. He nearly wished that he ended his life fighting alongside his men and valiantly earning a hero’s end rather than a useless prisoner dying in the captivity of his enemy.

Nate grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut through the dark and rain, pushing his hair down to cover his face. He thought any fighting worthless when the world around him drowned in the storm, but his heart echoed the words of his beloved mother: _Giving up, my son, is not the Sewell way._

Her words rang true, meaning he needed to fight.

So, Nate forced himself to stand tall and muster whatever strength he had left to pull against his bonds. He thought that the sudden onslaught of rain and moisture along his skin might loosen the shackles around his wrists enough for him to escape, thinking back to a story he learned from a grizzled old sailor who escaped a pirate ship on his lonesome.

Nate growled and pulled with everything he had, hearing a loud creaking sound beneath him. He glanced down when his wrists felt lighter and stared in shock as the chains bolted into the floorboards of the ship remained around his wrists. However, they were pulled out of the flooring, the wood around it weakened from the exposure to the water.

Not willing to waste his opportunity, he thought about running to the wheel and trying to correct the course. He weathered his fair share of storms and could do so should the opportunity arise, which it arguably did. He squinted to see through the storm and felt his body tip over when another forceful wave slammed into the hull. He was not the only one swept off his feet into the rising water on the deck but weakly pushed onto his forearms.

Then, from the darkness, something strange happened. Nate swore to the powers that be in heaven above that he heard singing. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, and recoiled when the cold cast iron of the shackles brushed against his skin. He burst into shivers from the rain and cold but forced himself to listen closer.

The singing came again, soft and whispery. It sang in a language unknown to his ears, sounding ancient like a secret lost in the sands of time. The voice, smooth as honey yet warm like the invitation of a cozy hearth, reached his ears through the chaos surrounding him until he felt the world mute.

_“Nate… Oh, Nate… You must escape a sunken ship, doomed for an eternity at the bottom of the ocean floor… Do not be afraid, Nate… Jump overboard… the water will save you… go on, jump… return to the arms of the sea where you belong, and you shall live to see another day…”_

The promises of the voice filled Nate with conflict, but he snapped out of his internal debate when the water filling the deck rose to the top of his boots. Whatever he decided, he needed to make a choice here and at once. Nate glanced from side to side and made a mad dash for the side of the boat. He fought against the weight of the chains and the water pushing him backward to reach the side. Gripping the edge, Nate said a quick prayer under his breath before he hurled himself overboard.

A fleeting sensation of weightlessness sent his stomach twisting in knots for the time he spent freefalling from the side of ‘The Cursed Ruby’ before he crashed into the frothing, cold waters below. Colliding into the waves, Nate felt his blood freeze from the cold, and paralysis overtake him. He saw nothing but darkness, and the waves spun his sense of direction out of control. He did not know which way was up, and air escaped his lips faster than he could stop it.

Nate frantically swam where he assumed up was, planning to peek above the waves to draw breath and dive back under. Nate felt something slam into his head during the struggle with such force that his body exploded into pain. He screamed underwater, panicking as water slipped into his lungs. Burning, he was burning-

His eyes swam with black spots that stood out amongst the darkness, and he, unable to do much else, hoped his family did not grieve him for too long. He wished that his death did not cause them pain and they would find peace one day. The pain overwhelmed him, his vision blurred, and his body began to go limp. Struggling stopped when Nate made a quick peace with his death.

The last thing he saw before the darkness encompassed him for a forever sleep was a brilliant flash of blue glow in the distance. Perhaps it was lightning or another beckoning of the storm, but the singing he heard while on deck swirled around him, wrapping his body around him. The pain subsided into nothingness and his body, devoid of warmth, started to go numb when touch sparked back into him as something brushed against him. Nate could not open his eyes, drained of energy and gasping for air as he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Nate knew he was dead. He had to be. Drowning during a nasty storm after he jumped overboard when listening to an alluring voice that likely stemmed as a figment of his imagination? That seemed overwhelmingly simple as a cause of death there.

Yet when the numbness started to fade like pricking needles against his skin and light steadily bloomed into existence against the damning darkness overtaking his eyes, Nate became unsure. Perhaps he met his Creator as his mother fervently prayed about during his childhood, but the thought frightened him more than an endless emptiness as death.

First came the heat. Pressing against his skin and clothes, the latter of which bogged him down, the warmth reminded him of an ideal sailing day during the summer. The ground beneath him felt cool, sinking underneath his weight to case his skin. Next, the nearby rushing of waves against the shore roaring quietly tumbled about his mind. The more he listened, the more he suspected that he survived the storm.

So, he tried to move. His body felt heavy, slowly sinking into the ground beneath him, and paralyzed in place. When efforts to revitalize movement inevitably failed, Nate switched to pushing his energy into opening his eyes. They felt forcefully shut, but pressure from him started the tedious process of getting them open.

However, something magical happened between lapses in his straining. He felt his body, once rigid and tight with strain, relax. Tension melted off his bones and seeped into the sand beneath him, washed away by the cyclical approach of the ocean’s waves. He felt something of a gentle touch grace his forehead that he almost guessed to be the mist flying from the cresting waves until he heard something else his muted ears missed: humming.

The humming coincided with the sensation of being touched descending from the center of his forehead, along the bridge of his nose, parting down his lips, and vanishing once it reached the crowning notch where his collarbones met. The darkness splashed across his vision gradually began to lighten and shift into an array of colors reminiscent of the sunset hour. Nate’s eyes, heavy and lidded in the corners with a mixture of sand and sleep, creaked open.

All he could see were colors, blurry and out of focus, of the world. The sunset-colored sky stood out as a backdrop muted behind the blurry, shadowy silhouette crowding his vision. Nate squinted, desperately trying to clear his eyes. He lifted an arm to his face, letting out a hoarse groan. His sudden noise must have spooked the woman hovering above him, evidenced by the light gasp and her shadow vanishing from his vision.

Nate struggled to tell whether he imagined things once again in the hazy image of a woman, but a frantic splash nearby snapped him with enough strength to sit up. He fiercely rubbed at his eyes and expelled the blurriness, clearing them to see himself on an unfamiliar beach and very much alive. He glanced at himself, seeing no major injuries and his coat slightly torn from the ordeal. He laid at the foot of the shore. Short of the high tide eclipsing him beyond his bootless ankles.

“Hello? I know I am not alone!” Nate called out, realizing there must have been a woman there. If the humming and singing turned out to be more than figments of his imagination, then he had to believe that she was somewhere. He glanced around at the surrounding wet sand and rocks, not seeing anywhere for someone to hide. A few feet away, he noticed a cluster of rocks jutting out of the water and what appeared to be a flash of blonde hair. He shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted, “I can see you there, behind the rock. Do not be afraid. Come out.”

Slowly, a face peered at him from behind the rock, and Nate was met with a woman with blonde hair tumbling down her face, clearly wet. A pair of shining blue eyes, not unlike the depths of the sea, stared at him through thick lashes. She brushed her hair away to reveal her milky white skin dotted with a pink flush. 

She moved wordlessly, only showing above her bosom as the rest of her body remained submerged underwater. Oddly so, Nate studied this woman he assumed found his unconscious body miraculously delivered to the shore. He wanted to ask her name or where he was and why she hid under the water insistently, but all words stopped when he noticed something poking out from the water behind her: a fin.

“What is that? Behind you!” He coughed, causing the woman to glance over her shoulder. Her body turned, and the fin re-appeared, but more came along with it. Nate witnessed with wide eyes as a full, bright ruby red tail flashed out of the water—connected to the stranger. He scrambled backward when she moved closer absentmindedly, revealing her human torso and the starting of the scales around her waist. A lover of myth and folklore, Nate knew what his eyes were showing him. He stared at what could only be described as a mermaid.

Mermaids were myths, they said.

Yet a mermaid sat before him, gathered amongst the lifeblood of her kind. She studied him, absorbing his horror and stunned silence. She cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to react. He called to her, and she came as beckoned, expecting some response for her valiant efforts to keep him from dying.

When Nate scrambled to his feet, she held up a hand. “Wait! Do not leave.” As she commanded, Nate halted in place and turned over his shoulder, seeing her sitting at the edge of the surf. She grimaced at him. “I will happily explain to you what happened, but I ask that you stay and listen, sailor.”

She spoke with a commanding presence, unabashed or timid like Nate expected. According to legend, mermaids were supposed to be giggly and soft-spoken seductresses. While the mermaid languishing in the sunset before him certainly demonstrated a level of seduction through her beauty, she refused to appear underestimated.

So, Nate quietly walked back toward the waves and sat down, directly across from her. She gave a light smirk and pushed back her hair. While she combed back her hair, she pointed to the left of her. Nate followed her directions and spotted an inconspicuous pile of rocks and seaweed, pushed up against the cliffside as not to appear out of place.

“I need you to retrieve a necklace from underneath there. Hand it to me, please.” She instructed, watching as Nate got up and walked over to the pile. He sifted through the layers of seaweed until his eyes landed on a gleaming, gorgeous silver and topaz necklace nestled in the sand. He scooped it up and walked toward the mermaid, casually lounging in the sand. While still maintaining a fair distance, he tossed the necklace to her, and she caught it.

“You have my attention,” Nate remarked, watching as she fiddled with the clasp on the necklace. She managed to get it around her neck, locking the clasp behind her.

A gentle light encompassed her lower body, and she rose after a moment, displaying fully human. Nate’s eyes widened when taking in her naked body, stripped of scales and tail turned into legs. The necklace had to be an enchanted talisman of some kind. She sighed loudly, “Thank you. So, I assume you remember the storm following your capture? The voice singing for you to dive overboard and take your chances with the ocean was none other than yours truly. You suffered a nasty head wound from colliding against the ship. Luckily, I healed that up for the small price of you being asleep for over a day. I called out to you because that storm was not survivable, and I would hate for you to drown with those pirates. Mermaids hate pirates.”

“Forgive me, but I am still struggling to understand that mermaids are real.” Nate averted his eyes, glancing at the sand. He refused to lay his eyes upon her naked body out of respect, catching the mermaid’s attention. That, and he needed to figure out how she changed before his eyes and guessed that magic must exist if mermaids did. She rose out of the water and walked past him for another cropping of rocks. She reached down and pulled out a white poet blouse, navy blue loose trousers, and a pair of men’s boots. She set the boots aside after pouring any lingering sand out of them.

“Oh, believe it,” She grinned, amused greatly by his bashfulness. She had never met a man so respectful of her virtue such as he, and she wondered if he acted with modesty out of graciousness for her saving his life? She shook out the shirt, newly dry. “What is your name, sailor?”

“Captain Nathaniel Sewell of the King’s Royal Navy.” The mermaid nodded at that, asking it as a question more of his truthfulness than of curiosity.

“You might call me Roxy,” She mentioned, speaking her chosen name for the first time. She pulled the blouse over her head, seeing the frilly neckline torn from the wreckage to leave an open space around her collarbone. It must have ripped during the scuffle of her pulling it off a dead pirate’s corpse along with the boots and trousers. “I do not find myself in the habit of exchanging my true name with strangers, for names have power.”

“Alright, Roxy, do you know where we are?” Nate questioned, missing the spectacle of her hopping into the oversized trousers with her long legs. Roxy wobbled but kept her composure. She would never be accustomed to these blasted legs walking on land when she could maneuver easier in water with a tail. However, she had enough practice to blend in seamlessly with the townspeople.

“I do,” Roxy walked back to Nate, dropping the boots down next to him. He glanced over to see her dressed, much to his relief. He thankfully reached for the boots and sized them up while Roxy paced along the shore. She squinted out at the horizon at the sun fading fast, which marked trouble for the two of them. They needed to hurry and pass through town before it got too late into the evening. “Unfortunately, you and I are in Haling Cove. Haling Cove appears innocent enough to those who might pass through, but it is an open port and sympathetic to pirates. Therefore, they would likely hang a navy man such as yourself and capture a mermaid like myself.”

“Just our luck, eh?” Nate remarked, weakly trying to see optimism in the situation. Getting angry about the situation would do no good for either of them. He hoped that he could figure out how to pass through town quickly, knowing how to return to his home. He studied enough maps to know he was at the southmost town along the coast, and a simple ride up north would be sufficient.

It would be his responsibility to inform his command about the massacre on ‘The Queen’s Sabre’ and ensure that his men’s families would receive proper equitable compensation.

Roxy stifled a half-laugh at his strange outlook on the matter. She ripped off a strip of fabric from some debris that washed ashore and tied her hair back from her face, looping the strand of what she believed to be a sail mast into a bun. “Our luck might be worse off individually, which is why I am willing to help you. I can pass relatively well in town and figure out how to barter for supplies we need.”

“You want to help me?” Nate questioned, glancing at Roxy’s hand out to him. He finished adjusting the buckle of the boots before he let Roxy help him up. He brushed the sand off his clothing, and Roxy shrugged.

“I saved you, so I feel somewhat responsible for you getting out of here alive,” Roxy mentioned, and she grinned. Besides, she enjoyed a jaunt around town while she still felt good. “I have a plan for getting us through the evening.”

“At this point, I am open to anything,” Nate admitted, rubbing at his face. Roxy held his hand, linking their fingers together. The two of them looked rough enough to slum it with the people of Haling Cove, while Nate was devoid of any distinguishing markers to identify him as a naval officer.

Roxy nodded and looked them over, sneaking glances around them to clear the area. She smirked, eyes twinkling as she declared, “So, I know how these pirates talk. Let me do all the talking, okay? If you can stay mute, that would be much appreciated.”


	3. Chapter 3

Walking through Haling Cove with Nate standing beside her, Roxy worked harder than she ever had to blend into her surroundings. However, stares of distrust were inescapable as the rowdy inhabitants of the seaside township cavorted with all kinds of unsavory types from black market traders, highwaymen, pirates, and exiles hiding from the long arm of the law. While Roxy held little care for human affairs, she had a special hatred for pirates.

Mermaids often spoke about getting caught in pirate nets and barely able to escape capture, thankfully so. Rumors have it that pirates would capture mermaids to skin them and sell their scaly tails for gold coins, fetching quite the price on the black market.

Many of Roxy’s friends would up and disappear, and whispers would spread through their secret, tight-knit community about a pirate sighting. She lost her father to pirates and nearly lost her mother, who vanished to live among the humans with enchantment. Roxy refused to abandon her home in the seas, but loneliness came as the slowest of deaths because of some selfish, greedy pirates.

Roxy looked over at Nate, who appeared deeply uncomfortable with the hostile attention, and she gripped him a little tighter to return his gaze on her. Warm brown eyes softened when seeing the face of his new ally (maybe even his friend) in Roxy, and she remarked, “The bar often has some information, and I can possibly barter for some coin. Rumor is they let guest entertainers take the stage to busk for a coin or two, and I would wager my voice could earn us enough to ride north.”

Nate nodded, staying quiet as she requested. Listening to the ambient conversations as he passed, he knew his accent would awkwardly stand out and reveal him to be someone of high status. The last thing he wanted was to give anyone else a reason to question their presence or start a fight. He thanked his lucky stars that the evening began to get darker, and they would hurry through Haling Cove.

Roxy pulled him along to the side when spotting the sign hanging above a door, denoting it as a tavern. She moved with such confidence, aside from the occasional wobbling that she could play off as aching feet, that none of the locals were unwilling to bother her. Not to mention, her glare was impressive and radiated palpable strength. She pushed open the door to the dimly-lit, packed tavern, and the two moved through the crowd together—careful to avoid bumping into anyone.

Knocking into someone and causing them to spill their ale was the fastest way to start a bar fight.

Roxy approached the counter, smiling seductively at the barkeep. She laid the charm on thick through her smile and her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the one-eyed gentleman serving as the barkeep for the fine establishment. He focused his attention on her, and only her, when he inquired, “How might I help a fair maid such as yourself?”

“That depends,” Roxy purred, making Nate’s face inadvertently flush. He noticed several men and ladies surrounding them turn to drink Roxy in. She looked like one of them if a bit disheveled. “You have an opening on stage for a lass in need of some coin?”

“For a pretty face like yours, certainly. The bard has three more songs, and then the opening is yours.” The barkeep grinned after mild consideration, making Roxy triumphantly squeeze Nate’s hand. She gave a gracious nod before ducking back into the crowd, pulling Nate behind her the entire time. He was a mere passenger along for the unexpected journey. The two of them managed to snag a table toward the outskirts of the room, blanketed in shadows.

“We should be in and out within the hour. If we keep our heads down and stay out of the spotlight until the last possible minute, then we will survive the night.” Roxy whispered, leaning in to cover Nate’s face so he might whisper to her. She shifted her posture to almost intersect with his lap and glanced around, shrinking back when Nate nodded.

Good to see he committed himself to his silence. It made her life much easier, and she would guess that he was used to following orders as a navy man.

“Try not to draw too much attention with that handsome face of yours when I go on stage, hmmm,” Roxy added, tapping Nate’s cheek. His eyes widened when taking in her mischievous grin and his confusion thoroughly delighted her. She sat back into her seat, pre-emptively combing her fingers before she went on stage.

If she hoped they would remain undisturbed, those hopes were soon dashed by the approach of a man younger than Nate. He had yet to shed the sheen of youth from his face, one clean-shaven like that of a boy rather than a man. He sauntered over to the table with impunity, grin focus on Roxy while largely ignoring Nate at her side.

“Hello there,” He greeted, eyes fixated on Roxy. He pushed back his relatively short hair from hanging into his eyes, giving a leering grin. “What is your name?”

“Roxy. What do I owe the pleasure?” She questioned, offering a half-smile that did not fully reach her eyes. A smart man would hear the sarcasm heavily dripping from her tone, that there was _no_ pleasure involved with associating with this character. She could smell a pirate from a mile away, and he reeked of the rat.

“Just coming over to compliment a lady,” He declared, acting oblivious to Roxy’s apparent discontent with the burgeoning conversation- or perhaps he had not caught the hint. Either way, his presence grated on Roxy, and a glance at Nate beside her showed his expression less than enthused. “The name’s Robert Marks, but I prefer Bobby.”

“Well then, Bobby,” Roxy mumbled, sitting up in her seat. Her eyes wandered toward the stage calmly, noticing the bard giving his final bows before exiting the stage. The sooner she and Nate left, the safer they would be from attracting the attention of pirates. So, she rose from her seat and wormed past Bobby, despite him trying to box her into the booth. Saved by the bard from his flirting. “-Unfortunately, I am needed up on stage, but you have a good day now.”

Roxy walked away without another word. From his seat, Nate bit back a grin at the swift denial Roxy indiscriminately handed to Bobby. She danced between seductress and the chased prey with ease, not unlike the shifting abilities when she donned her necklace. Frankly, the scene reminded Nate of going to a pub with his mates Adam, Felix, and Mason to watch Felix and Mason compete in a rousing, ultimately playful endeavor of flirting with beautiful maids or even some sailors if they were feeling bold.

Almost like he sensed his amusement, Bobby’s attention snapped over to Nate. He squinted; eyes narrowed in what felt like recognition. Nate held his tongue as Roxy strutted onto the stage, waving and winking to all the whistles. She commanded the attention of the quiet room, preparing to sing.

The melodic, alluring voice that escaped through her soft, plump pink lips and swirled through the crowd transcended beyond that of a mortal capability. Those in the audience found themselves captivated, Nate included. He watched Roxy close her eyes as she sang, swaying side to side.

“I did not catch your name,” Bobby interrupted his viewing of Roxy’s performance, eclipsing his line of sight. Nate glared at him, intentionally glancing around to see Roxy. Bobby felt miffed at being ignored, doubly so when he started getting the silent treatment from Nate. So, he did not want to talk, huh? That meant they could do it the hard way. “Funnily enough, you look familiar.”

Tired of the questions from a stranger he owed nothing to, Nate gruffly rose from his seat in the pursuit of some fresh air and an escape away from Bobby. He had nothing to say, nor would he want to talk if he could. Something about Bobby unsettled him, and the gleam in his eye made Nate inclined to label him a pirate or a sympathetic informant. He dealt with plenty of the latter who would lie in an honorable sailor’s face for some coin, who could knowingly send another man to their death.

Nate refused to trust the likes of Bobby and decided to distance himself for his safety. He would stay in the bar, but closer to the door. As he passed, he shoved Bobby out of his way in an uncharacteristic show of force. Bobby stumbled back on his heels but stabilized himself. Narrowing his eyes, he sped to the counter with something to prove.

Nate ducked through the back of the crowd, trying to remain undetected and not interrupt anyone’s view. In his peripheral view, Roxy occupied his attention, and her voice called out to him like it did aboard that doomed pirating vessel. It seemed he was not the only soul enchanted by the song, and he hoped it enough to get the coin to make it back to his home, back to his mates.

He just about reached the door, intending to spare a moment for some fresh air, when a firm hand grabbed him with a fistful of his shirt. Nate growled, knowing who would be persistent enough to approach.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bobby questioned, forcing Nate to turn around and face a wanted poster with his likeness drawn into the side. It was no secret that pirates sometimes placed bounties on the heads of naval officers or other lawmen to compete amongst themselves. Nate did not cower or swallow in fear, staring down at the five men surrounding him in the corner of the bar. “Is this you?”

Nate said nothing but prepared for a battle. He and Roxy would need to fight their way out of that damn bar if they wanted to live.

Meanwhile, Roxy, stepping down from the stage, waved seductively at the whistling and cheering crowd. She opened her hands to the audience, and coins were pressed into her open palms, growing heavy. After her performance, onlookers clamored to give her some cash in awe. Someone added a small, empty jewel pouch, and she poured the clattering coins into the velvet bag. She looked for Nate, noticing that Bobby and a few other men surrounded Nate back at the door.

Eyes wide, she needed to think of a distraction. She scanned the perimeter for a distraction when she realized she needed to start a fight, one that would encompass the entirety of the bar. She hastily tucked her blouse into the waistband of the trousers, dropped the velvet bag down in the valley between her bosom, and sped up her pace.

She, along the way, shoulder-checked a burly guy in the middle of drinking a tankard of ale and ducked out of view. The highwayman she shoved spilled his drink down his front and angrily turned around, looking for the responsible party. Instead of calmly settling a potential dispute, the highwayman grabbed the burly pirate standing next to him and slammed the wooden tankard against his head. The two men started throwing punches, someone yelled “Fight!” and everything descended into chaos from there. Patrons of the bar started swinging wildly, throwing food and drink, and turning furniture into weapons. Roxy nimbly dodged through the scuffle and smirked when seeing Bobby and his cronies glancing around. They were too distracted to notice her race past them, steal a sword from one of their hands, and race out the door with Nate.

“Hurry!” She exclaimed, hair falling loose out of her binding when sprinting through the streets. People hustled out of their way with disgusted scoffs from the rude behavior. Roxy hissed at them to move, glancing over her shoulder to see the disgruntled pirates stumble out of the tavern. They glanced around in search of Roxy and Nate.

“Roxy, give me the sword. I have an idea.” Nate said lowly, skidding to a halt and holding the wrist holding the sword. Although she looked conflicted, Roxy reluctantly handed the sword to Nate and raced forward toward the horse post at the end of the marketplace. She noticed a young boy tying a horse to the rest post and figured that some coin would be sufficient compensation for a trade.

Nate turned around, wielding the saber expertly. Beyond his training, he learned how to fight ever since he was a young lad no taller than his mother’s hip and scrawnier than the other boys his age. How times drastically changed. He pointed the sword between him and Bobby’s posse from the bar, daring any of them to step forward. None of the pirates seemed overly keen to charge at the sailor able to fend for himself, but Bobby shoved his companions and borrowed one of their swords.

“You going to fight me like a man or run like a coward?” He taunted, expecting to wound Nate’s pride enough to goad him into a fight. He mustered up his bravado, squaring his shoulders to the falsehood of his untouchable bravery. Nate quietly stared at Bobby, frankly unmoved and unamused.

“I do not believe I am the coward here,” Nate brandished his sword in quiet confidence, staring at Bobby. He cracked his neck and narrowed his eyes. Nate parried Bobby’s wild first swing without needing to blink and pushed him back with a shove. Bobby stumbled but rushed at Nate again. He grimaced, “You are foolish.”

“I will mount your head on my wall!” Bobby hissed, and Nate could not stop the bark of laughter. He spun his sword and launched into the offensive, which threw Bobby off. Although Nate leaned heavier on defense because of his passivism, no one should mistake that for inability to throw the first punch—or swing rather.

Iron clanging on iron filled the square, and Nate felt somewhat surprised that no one else tried to rush him at the same time as Bobby, especially not one of his cronies. Scruples were not a trademark habit of pirates; he learned that from experience. Bobby barely managed to keep up with Nate, thoroughly panicked from how fast he moved. It almost felt like he wasn’t human.

“Nate! We need to go!” Roxy shouted, diverting Nate’s attention over his shoulder where she sat atop a dark brown mare and gripped the reins tightly. She appeared terrified but desperately trying to keep her composure. Nate spun back around and capitalized on Bobby’s distraction to knock the sword from his hand, sending it clattering across the cobblestone streets.

While Bobby scrambled backward, Nate sprinted toward Roxy and the mount she secured. He discarded the sword harmlessly, grabbing her outstretched hand and vaulting onto the back of the horse. He settled in the saddle behind Roxy and looked at her expectantly, “Sorry, we need to go.”

“How do you steer this thing?” Roxy hissed out, staring blankly at the horse. Nate gave her an incredulous look as to why she would barter for a horse when she didn’t know how to ride one. Roxy shot him a glare; he did not assume they would escape on foot, did he? They could argue about whatever later, as she noticed Bobby and his companions coming closer. “We need to go now.”

“Give me the reins,” Nate murmured, taking over the stirrups, and Roxy conceded the reins to Nate. She gripped the horn of the saddle, wishing she had stolen a pistol while she was at it. With the reins in his hands, Nate dug his heel into the horse and snapped the reins. His vocalized command spurred the horse into a fast-paced gallop, thundering through the streets.

Roxy grabbed into the mare’s mane for extra stability as she and Nate raced for the gates in a stolen horse, intending to lose any would-be captors in the dark woods standing outside the town. She felt her heart beating wildly, stunningly afraid. She needed to hope that Nate would safely get them out of town, and they could follow the path to safety, only stopping when they could no longer safely ride.

She shut her eyes, sinking back into Nate’s chest. He commanded the horse to speed up the pace, hearing the shouts from behind him to suggest that they had company fast approaching. His focus was getting them into the woods, planning on losing their captors. It might require some fast thinking, a little reckless riding, but all things that Nate felt aptly prepared to do.

Nate encouraged the mare faster as he and Roxy sped through the open gates, those on duty to guard them too distracted to close them in time. The cover of darkness shrouded Nate as he directed the mare into the forest, ducking under a low-hanging branch. He had always been gifted with surprisingly good vision during the night, and he would put that to good use.

Roxy opened her eyes again, feeling somewhat sick, but she refused to demand Nate pull off to the side. They rode through the forest, galloping down the paved path toward the next town over, as the angered screams chasing after them dropped off. Soon, it became nothing but silence.

When Nate felt little chance they were getting followed, he slowed the mare’s pace to a delicate trot, and Roxy felt arguably less queasy. She forced herself to take soft yet deep breaths as the two cruised through the darkness, marked with sporadic bursts of moonlight through the canopy until they emerged out the other side.

When the two came upon a fork in the road, Roxy looked to Nate for decision-making. Her sense of direction skewed when on land, compared to the untainted understanding of where she was while at sea. She was now reliant on the human to guide the way and lucky for her, she trusted him.

“Which way?” She asked.

“Both paths will lead to where we need to go: safe harbor. The right path will lead into another coastal town, Lightshore, a mix of law-abiding and pirate sympathy. That still means danger but guaranteed shelter. The left path will lead directly to Wayhaven, where my base is stationed, and maybe go through a small village I have visited before. They are under the protection of the naval forces and would be safe, but we would not reach there until morning and thereby be forced to seek shelter-”

“No offense,” Roxy remarked, shuddering at the mention of more pirates. “I would take my chances finding shelter.”

“-Then we go left.” Nate declared, guiding the mare to the left road in the fork, letting her slowly walk. They were keeping a good pace and would go until he felt weariness. Neither knew how long had passed between their decision to take the left fork and when they arrived at a gorgeous lake standing between one level of waterfalls and another that descended into a rapid river depositing out into the ocean, a direct line to the sea.

However, Roxy and Nate could agree they would rest for the night. While Nate scoured nearby for suitable shelter, Roxy led the mare to the edge of the lake for some water. Nate kept Roxy within his sight, not wanting to stray too far. He eventually found an alcove carved into the side of the sloping hill, but warm enough to start a fire.

So, Nate got started with arranging a fire and playing with flints to spark it to life. He glanced over his shoulder once or twice to see Roxy letting the horse graze and walking beside it, appearing calmed down. The night breeze swirled through her hair and ruffled the blouse she wore, letting Nate’s thought wander to how different she appeared that her nakedly traipsing around the beach.

She looked human, remarkably so.

Roxy glanced over to him, catching his stare. Nate quickly looked away, but he heard the distant footsteps approach. He cursed when hearing the horse’s neigh and glanced over, seeing Roxy tethering the horse to a stake she crafted from a sturdy branch floating through the water. She pets the horse’s mane before walking to sit by the edge of the lake.

Nate sighed, wanting to check in. So, he wrangled with the fire until he managed to light a little flame in the pile of wood he stacked together with plenty more to last the night. Once that was accomplished, he walked out of the alcove to see Roxy seated at the edge of the lake.

She stared out to the ocean, her home, and Nate understood that she missed it. What he did not know was that she was in severe pain. The price of magic for legs was the burning pain in each step, the agonizing ache of her body that felt like her bones would crush under the weight. The curse would be lifted when she removed the necklace, replacing her legs with her tail.

Nate quietly stood behind her, “So, what do I owe you for saving my life twice? An undying pledge of fealty? My firstborn child? A kiss?”

That last suggestion caused Roxy’s head to snap, and she turned to look at him, her face scandalized. She knew she might give that impression, but a kiss was not something that a man should offer to her kind. Nate should be lucky that she knew better, “No. Despite my flirtations, I would not ask for a kiss as payment. Rumor says that a kiss from merfolk will turn a man mad. I have seen enough sailors throw themselves from cliffs to chase after a second kiss while my kin watches on in sheer amusement. Humans were not made for merfolk magic; it corrupts and steals one’s sanity.”

“Oh. I see.” Roxy’s stark warning put a damper on the air between the two of them, once rife with thrill and tension. Roxy’s face appeared crestfallen, and she sighed.

“You should get some sleep, Nate,” She suggested, absentmindedly tracing her fingers across the ground beside her. She offered a weary smile. “You have a long morning tomorrow. I will join soon.”

“Good evening, Roxy.” Nate wished her politely, sensing she wanted to be alone. Roxy nodded her goodnight and watched as he walked back to the alcove. He curled up by the fire, and as soon as he got somewhat comfortable, he passed out. Roxy observed him for some time, evenly breathing and resting to make sure he was asleep.

She returned her sight to the ocean in the distance, tracing the way home with her eyes. She reached behind her neck for the clasp of the necklace.


	4. Chapter 4

The song of the early bird awakening to the sun stirred Nate from his slumber, stretching out until his hands brushed against the stone wall next to his head. The cool feel of the morning trickled through the open mouth of the alcove, brushing against his face with the misty caress of marine layer fog.

Nate groaned, sleepily rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, and he blearily sat himself up to re-align his bearings. Although he was a hardened, experienced sailor, he never fully accustomed to sleeping while on the open seas; the constant rocking kept him awake during the evenings and lead to insomniac wanderings across the deck to take in the night sky. Something about solid land beneath his feet coaxed him to sleep, not afraid of closing his eyes and letting something happen while he slept.

After the ordeal of the last two days, his exhaustion felt understandable. He did not play rationalization games to placate his hesitance this time and accepted his humanity for its undeniable flaws. Funny how introspection came to him because of a brush with death, reminding him of the mortal conditionality he and everyone lived by. The thought that tomorrow belonged to no one was promised to none, and as fickle as the wind made him more determined to reach Wayhaven before nightfall.

Therefore, he and Roxy should get a head start.

As the world cleared around him, Nate spotted their horse quietly grazing at the small patch of grass where they tethered her last evening, the burnt-out fire of blackened wood and the few embers remaining nestled within the ash heap and the serene lake. But no sign of Roxy.

That made Nate go on high alert, scrambling to his feet. He exited the alcove, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Roxy? Roxy? Roxy, where are you?”

He whirled around, searching for a flash of blond hair or maybe a glittering of red scales underneath the surface of the water. He approached the edge of the lake, staring down into the faint ripples forced from the flow toward the cascading falls up ahead. Roxy was nowhere to be found, which made Nate even more panicked.

He glanced back at the cave, wondering if she wandered further down into the cave to fall asleep. As he walked back to the fire, Nate noticed a pile of clothes that Roxy wore, and sitting nestled in the middle of the pile was the necklace and her coin pouch. His heart sank, face crestfallen. He held the necklace up, letting it dangle and spin.

Where did she go? Did she leave him behind?

A small part of him brought up the tension in the air from their conversation before he went to sleep, instantly filling with regret. Unable to do much else than call out to her, Nate knew he would need to get going on the road. He did not want to leave Roxy’s necklace behind, so he stored it into the pouch and wrapped that into the clothes. He walked over to the horse and stored those valuables into the saddlebag, knowing they would be safe there.

All his belongings packed, Nate mounted the mare and guided it back onto the carved path. He raced the mare along the road, ducking under the leafy canopy of the trees. Riding during the day felt so different than at night, filled with the enjoyable experience of indulging the sunshine on one’s skin when galloping along.

As Nate rode through the sloping road to the north, he found himself often distracted. In the silence of the passing scenery and the singular rhythm of hoofbeats, his ears heard the far-off humming of a sweet melody coming from the east—from the sea. He continued to ride, despite the insatiable urge to ride toward the singing. He thought it might be Roxy, trying to call to him. But it could be a trap, a trick by some merfolk designed to send him careening over the cliffs to his death.

He spent his journey to Sandwood, the small town marking three-quarters of the way from Haling Cove to Wayhaven, attempting to drown out the singing. He would provide his own musical stylings, not poor in skills but sounded rather off-key than whoever sang from beyond the great blue. The song caressed him, beckoned him to stray from the path, and that painful reminder was what kept him on the straight and narrow.

Soon, he arrived outside the handmade wooden gates marking Sandwood Village, and his imposing and slightly disheveled state garnered some odd looks. But those quickly changed when the villagers recognized the tattered ruins of a naval uniform on Nate’s body. He found himself bombarded with questions and concerned faces of the locals, politely assuaging their concerns.

He dismounted from his mare, feeling the world start to spin. It had been days since his last meal and an unknown span of time since he drank fresh water. He would argue the salty seawater filling his lungs when he nearly drowned was not good enough for his malnourished body to survive through the trauma he endured.

Managing to stay somewhat upright, he stumbled over to the nearest marketplace stall, where he spotted an elderly woman underneath the tent top's shade. She smiled at him when he panted out, “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Young man, please call me Zena,” She corrected kindly, surveying his state. My, he looked worse for wear! “What can I help you with?”

“I need to purchase some rations for travel, a filled canteen of water, and the use of your trough and your finest apple for my horse,” Nate explained, earning a polite nod from Zena. She walked off to collect his items but wordlessly gestured over to the trough for his mare to use. Nate guided the exhausted mare to the water, almost jealous of the horse. He watched the townspeople interact among themselves, exhibiting their personal microcosms through their interactions.

Something light to distract himself from the wait for his supplies and to keep from thinking about the final leg of the journey, which felt painfully long. When he arrived back in Wayhaven, he would report to his superiors and likely be dismissed to see a physician. He did not know whether his compatriots thought him dead or merely missing or maybe neither, but his story sounded near impossible. He had some time to fine-tune the details he presented.

Nate glanced into the trough from where his mare greedily drank, catching sight of his reflection. He looked horrible; he grimaced at the sight of himself, which was a far cry from the clean-cut image he gave as a naval officer. He blinked, but his reflection was gone.

Instead, he saw the visage of Roxy. Those haunting eyes, as dark as the depths of the ocean, and her honey blonde hair dripping wet. Her image smiled at him, and, suddenly, his ears rang with the singing he first heard when he jumped from the boat. Nate frantically rubbed at his eyes to clear his sight, but the image vanished, and only his reflection remained.

He shook his head, dispelling the thought of what he saw in the water. He reached into the pouch for the coin, first pulling out Roxy’s necklace with the chain tangled around his fingers.

“How much for the supplies?” He questioned Zena, brushing the sweat from his forehead, and the old woman gave him a knowing smile. She seemed amenable enough, but the gleam in her dark eyes deeply unsettled him.

“That necklace, dearie, should more than cover it.” She pointed a gnarled, tanned finger toward Roxy’s necklace hanging in Nate’s hand. His head glanced over, immediately conflicted. Roxy left behind a substantive amount of currency for him to barter with, but he knew that hard bargains were not uncommon on the marketplace. Involuntarily, his grip on the necklace tightened, and he sighed.

He lifted it up, letting it catch the sunlight. It sparkled brightly, and Zena made a ‘gimme’ motion with her hands, salivating to barter something as valuable as the necklace in the sailor’s hand. Nate looked at it, knowing Roxy left it for a reason.

So, he did what he thought Roxy would want.


	5. Chapter 5

Hours since he paid for needed materials, Nate spotted the stone wall marking the gates of Wayhaven. From his vantage point, he could see the small coastline and the port toward the end of the sandbar. It was dark out, but the lanterns hanging from the wall illuminated his destination and would reveal him to be one of them in desperate need of aid.

He knew his mare was exhausted from the travel as he was. They were in the final stretch before she could enjoy a full meal and as much rest as she needed. He did not know what he would do with her yet, but he could sell her to someone in need of a trusty mount. Although, he might find himself hard-pressed to part with the old girl after the wild adventure they survived.

When Nate reached the outskirts of the gate, expecting to be asked his identity and his purpose for arrival at the late hour. However, before he could announce his presence, the voice of one of his friends—Felix—rang out over the wall, “Nate! Is that you?”

“Yes, Felix,” Nate sighed in relief, slumping forward slightly. The mare gave a snort, shaking her head and scuffing the soft earth under her hoof. He chuckled, “Boy, am I glad to hear the sound of your voice.”

“What happened to you? Last we heard, The Queen’s Sabre did not make it to her refilling station via message. Adam was worried about you, feared the worst that the ship went down or was attacked.” Felix questioned, peering over the wall. Nate waved exhaustedly at the sight of curious amber eyes that belonged to none other than Felix Hauville.

“Open the gates first,” Nate sighed. “I will explain everything.”

“Right! Open the gates. And someone grab Adam and Mason!” Felix exclaimed, his order starting the tedious process of opening the creaking gate. Wayhaven needed significant infrastructure repair, but that was not Nate’s place to say. He patiently waited for the gate to open enough where he and his mount could comfortably trot through, which meant extra time considering the combined height of him sitting atop a large horse.

He eventually made it safely through the gates, finding several soldiers accompanying his closest friends and observing him with awe-struck faces. Adam, his closest friend, led the pack and held his arm out to Nate.

“You look like hell,” Mason commented from the back, a lit cigar perched between his lips. Seeing Mason with tobacco was not unusual. When some of the others looked at him oddly for his bluntness, Mason glared at them until they looked away. He huffed, “No offense.”

“It was an apt description.” Nate shrugged and dismounted from the horse, holding the reins in his hands. The mare neighed, nudging him with her speckled muzzle. He rubbed at his face, glancing down at his torn and grimy attire. He smelled of sweat, dirt, and brine.

“Glad to see you largely unharmed,” Adam gruffly, but Nate knew his friend cared. He was softer in his approach than he would with another soldier if the roles were reversed. Nate nodded, feeling the eyes of the massive crowd on him. He did not like it. “Care to explain what happened?”

This was what Nate dreaded. He needed to choose his words carefully when discussing the loss of his crew, something he had yet to fully deal with, and omit all details of Roxy. Unless he planned on playing it off as a random woman helping him, but that would feel wrong- Either way, he needed to commit to something and fast.

“This tale will sound insane, but I swear it on my honor to be the truth. Several days ago, The Queen’s Sabre was attacked and ambushed by a pirate ship. We were caught off-guard, and the pirates boarded, killing those on board. I expected to be next, but my family name made them believe they could leverage me for ransom money. They kidnapped me and set the boat on fire, but that did not last long. A nasty storm hit, leading to me fall overboard. Somehow, I survived and ended up washed up at Haling Cove. I escaped pirates and spent several days riding to reach Wayhaven again.”

“That sounds horrible,” Felix remarked, and none of the other men around him could come up with anything better to say in response. Silence reigned until Felix clapped his hands, “-But you are a true hero! Nate, you survived through a miracle, and this calls for a round of drinks at Hayley’s!”

That decision earned a flurry of cheering as several of the soldiers sprinted in the direction of the tavern. Mason followed Felix and the numbers dwindled until it remained Nate and Adam alone. Adam sighed, “You look unsure about a drink.”

“I need to go on a quick walk to clear my head,” Nate lied, sticking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Adam raised his brow but said nothing. He had a suspicion Nate was not saying everything on his mind. “I can catch up with you guys shortly.”

Adam quietly nodded, taking the mare toward the stables. That left Nate, by himself, free to take his walk. So, he decided that he would go to the water to get some closure; he needed it.

Walking through the empty streets toward the dark, glistening waters, Nate followed the faint humming ringing in his ears that grew louder as he drew closer to the water’s edge. He knew what he was doing could be dangerous, but he needed to get close on the off chance that it was Roxy beckoning him to the shore. She did so much for him, without anything in return, and he wanted to understand why she cared enough.

Eventually, he reached the sand. His boots crunched against the wet, softened surface, and he left indented footsteps marking where he walked. Nate approached the edge of the low tide, glancing out at the moonlit horizon longingly. His arrival on the beach stopped the singing, causing him to wrangle with bewilderment. He looked for any sign of Roxy’s presence in the waters ahead.

Having nothing to lose, Nate whispered, “Roxy, I do not know where you are, but please come back.” He rubbed his hands together for warmth, wondering how long he would wait out on the sand for a mermaid that might not even show her face.

“You called me?” Roxy’s voice filled his ears, making him whip his head around. He caught sight of her, barely peeking out of the water a few feet from shore. Under his gaze, she shifted uncomfortably, and her tail poked above the fading crest of the waves. She had never been summoned before, seeing as she did not go around saving strangers.

“You- Is that really you, Roxy, or another figment of my weary mind?” Nate inquired, sounding unsure. He watched her, blinking twice to test whether she was an illusion. Roxy tilted her head exasperatedly.

She said, “Yes, I am real. Do you need me to pinch you or something to prove it?”

Nate stood there before he burst out into laughter, and Roxy smirked. She had a sense of humor; what could she say? She swam closer to the shore until she rested on her belly among wet sand and the cyclical rush of the tides kept her wet when they came in. She propped herself up on her elbows, staring at him.

The two lapsed into silence until Nate spoke up again, struggling with a burning question, “Why did you leave? You left in the middle of the night without an explanation, and I got worried something happened to you until I found the necklace. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you did not do anything wrong,” Roxy confirmed, brushing her wet hair back from her vision. She kept his gaze, not wanting to seem disingenuous. “Truth is, I needed to return to the sea. I never told you that the necklace enchantment comes with a heavy price after prolonged use. It was killing me, Nate. The more I stayed away from the sea with the necklace, my body would be crippled with severe pains. I needed to go back before the pain overwhelmed me.”

Nate squatted down to Roxy’s level, frowning, “I would have understood.”

“I did not wish to disappoint you,” Roxy remarked, intending to be teasing. However, her tone fell somewhat flat. She traced her finger into the sand and shrugged, “Besides, I thought you could maybe use the necklace for more than I needed.”

“Speaking of that,” Nate murmured, reaching into his pocket and produced a silvery chain with the dark red gem charm hanging from it. It glowed in the moonlight with an ethereal sheen reflecting off the polished metal. Roxy’s eyes widened when she saw it and reached out her hand shyly, only for Nate to gift it to her. “I could not sell it, even if I needed to. I would have bartered before giving it up.”

“You kept it. Why would you do that?” Roxy questioned, shocked. She curled her hand around the charm and noticed Nate wave. He could not explain, but he wanted to give back after all Roxy did for him. Roxy held it tightly and gave a genuine smile.

“Now, I wanted to ask—” Nate picked up a smooth stone by his feet and tossed it to skip on the waves before sinking under the dark water. “—Is there any chance you would be willing to spend a night with me? I am not keen on grabbing a pint with my mates at the tavern quite yet. I am only asking if you can stay with me without bringing harm to yourself.”

Roxy glanced between him and the necklace in her hands, thinking. Well, the enchantment gave her an hour of uninterrupted functioning before the pain started. She thought that plenty of time to spend with the handsome sailor. Nate was quite easy on the eyes. So, she winked at him, “Okay.”

She slipped the necklace on and locked the clasp, bestowing her human legs. She stood up, not covering up in the moonlight. She lifted Nate’s chin underneath a finger, “Is there anything you would like to do? If you say going into town, I will need some clothes.”

“We can stay here,” Nate assured her and rose onto his feet, looking down now. He grinned, wondering if the rumors about a mermaid’s kiss were truth or more fiction than reality. “I am more interested in figuring out whether a merfolk kiss would turn me mad.”

“Are you brave enough to find out, Captain?” Her bold inquiry saw Nate leaning in and brushing his lips against her, thoroughly enticed by her beauty. The two of them kissed beneath the moonlight, hands clinging to the other tightly. When they parted for a breath, Nate concluded the only madness he felt came from the bewitching lust she cast over his heart—started from the moment she saved him from the clutches of death.

“It seems so, Roxy.”


End file.
